Forty one weeks and three days
by LilyBartAndTheOthers
Summary: Forty one weeks and three days or giving a meaning to a life in ruins. WK fic. And a special thanks to Geedee for all the reviews that I can't reply to because your status is sort of anonymous!
1. Observe speak think

_**Part one: first trial**_

**1. Observe, speak, think**

A nurse arrived on her left running all the way down to the end of the long corridor; her shoes resounding loud against the plastic floor. Instinctively, she leaned against the wall and let the employee pass by.

With a barely contained apprehension her eyes followed the unexpected race to one of the numerous rooms that constituted the labyrinth of doors in the ward. After a few seconds, she finally came back to reality only to realize how the bouquet she had been holding all the time had severely suffered from the brief encounter.

The flowers looked all crumpled now.

Persuading herself that it would nonetheless be alright, she turned on her right and headed to the room 214 with a self-confidence that couldn't betray the way her heart was pounding loud at the moment.

If she had only listened to herself, she would have not even stepped in the hospital in the first place. Politely enough and responding to rules of conventionalism, she would have sent a greeting card, eventually added a check, but never made it to the place she despised the most in her life.

What could she say? It had only brought bad news to her life until now.

She softly knocked on the door and poked her head inside. She could hear cries in the background, those she wouldn't have known how to stop or ease; the ones that got her terrified and yet so fascinated.

She timidly walked in, tightening her grip on the flowers as her steps led her to the bed where Grace was laid in. With what looked more like reluctance than care, she avoided the crib then tended the bouquet of white lilies to her friend not knowing what to say.

When Grace had announced her pregnancy, and odd and oppressive disappointment had invaded her and she had taken the news pretty badly. She had always hated changes, the way it turned a pleasant life upside down when you barely started enjoying it. She avoided them meticulously but since Will and Jack had seemed to be overexcited by the perspective of a baby, she hadn't said anything; only had another drink.

Forty-one weeks and three days later, she didn't have another choice but to accept it as much as the slightest thought of dislike made her feel ashamed.

If she might have laughed of it, sometime her lack of humanity hit her strong and she didn't know what to think about it, didn't dare to as a matter of fact.

The bouquet got soon enough discarded and she had no choice but to find herself in front of the dreaded situation of meeting up with the baby.

"This is Sophia."

The truth was that she had never seen a new born, not so young. In the best of the cases she had had to deal with few-months toddlers but when her friend took the little girl in her arms and she looked at the tiny human being moving around, she restrained a gasp; something warm that had suddenly spread over her heart.

"She is beautiful."

But looked incredibly fragile like those porcelain dolls that some people decided to keep in bubble-wrap paper to avoid to break them down into pieces.

"Would you like to hold her?"

"Oh, I don't know. I don't want to wake her up and all."

She had drunk, besides. Not that it usually caused her any problem but what if she let the new-born fall down? Her shame grew wider, reddening her cheeks. Biting the inside of her mouth, she looked around and regretted to have turned down Jack's offer to come along him at the hospital. At last she would have felt less alone.

"It is okay. Besides, you'd better get used to her. She might be around for quite a lot of years now."

...

Just the time to abandon her bag on a table in the lobby and she rushed to the first floor, running the water in the tub to have a bath. She needed the contact of water with her skin. Hopefully it would put an end to her constant shaking that hadn't left her since she had stepped out of the hospital twenty minutes earlier.

Grace was fine; Sophia as well.

Nothing else really mattered in the end.

But as she stepped into the tub and leaned her head backwards _ closing her eyes to enjoy the sensation of warmth on her flesh _ an odd emotion suddenly grabbed her heart and tightened it with strength, an invisible one.

The tears ran down, slowly at first but their pace growing every second. When the sobs came out, loud in the silence of the penthouse, she put her hand instinctively over her mouth.

Something had got broken inside as she had held Sophia. She had only kept her in her arms a few seconds but the sensation had kept on spreading over her body from her lower stomach to her mind. While reaching the heart, the pain had substituted the rest and she had run away, a bit perplexed; lost.

And now, in the immensity of her house _ empty and cold, plunged in the dark _ a thousand questions were rushing to her mind making it all explode with disturbing easiness; as if all the efforts she had put in building up some balance had always been vain but only showed it up now.

Reality was harsh, and unfair. But what was the actual meaning of life?

And what if she had been wrong, all along?

Then she would have ruined it all.

It is only when the taste of Vodka calmed down her cries that Karen realized she actually had.


	2. The Rain and I

2. The rain and I

"_With some people solitariness is an escape not from the others but from themselves. For they see in the eyes of others only a reflection of themselves."_

_Eric Hoffer._

On rainy days, she used to go to Central Park.

With her hair awkwardly up under a hat and an old trench coat on, she took one of the numerous paths until her steps led her to the other side, at a precised place that only found importance in her very own heart.

If she turned around and looked up, she would make out the buildings of Central Park West through the leaves; the large windows of The Dakota that seemed to keep an eternal eye over the joggers and passers-by.

But what actually caught up her attention was located on the ground, between two northern red oak trees at the corner of a road. With a circumference as small as the palm of her hand, it passed unnoticed unless people who approached and studied it with meticulousness didn't dare to touch it as soon as their gaze landed on the rose that had been slid under.

She put a new one every time she came then remained still, observing the rain drops embrace the red petals until the sun pierced through the clouds and warmed up her nape.

It didn't help, on the contrary. The whole ritual only kept her locked in the darkness of a dead-end situation from which the light of life seemed to weaken more and more as the weeks flew away. She didn't own a lot of references. She couldn't afford to let this one fade away.

As usual, as the rain pour ceased she crossed The Upper West Side and pushed the door of Zabar's to order a coffee; sat down at the table that had the most of chances to pass unnoticed. She didn't want to be seen, didn't want to talk if she happened to meet some acquaintance. It was all about being alone and thinking about him.

"I didn't know that you actually enjoyed the art section of The New York Times. Even less that you read..."

If she hadn't cared about conventions, she would have burst into tears; not for the teasing words Will had just used but because of the fact he was standing there, in front of her and had broken down a plan that had worked out for weeks. If nobody liked the idea of a personal failure, she simply hated it.

"Shouldn't you be at work?"

She looked at him with incredibility as he grabbed a chair and sat down at her table, a mug of coffee in hand.

"I took the afternoon off to visit Grace and Sophia."

Something hurt in her chest at the evocation of the new-born and her mother but she swallowed it back and nodded instead, smiling forcefully. Since Grace had left the hospital and gone back home in Brooklyn, she hadn't made the journey to see how things were going. She had called, cowardly enough and inexorably witnessed Will's excitement upon the birth of the baby.

"How are they?"

"Grace says that she doesn't stop crying but honestly she looks like the cutest angel you could ever imagine. She is just perfect, to me."

The silence of her reply got lost into another smile but she didn't insist, facing all the bitterness found in Will's emphasis. They both knew that his chances to ever get to experience parenthood were getting reduced as the years were going by; complicated yet in the first place by his sexual orientation.

If he ever gave into adoption, it would be a hard task to fulfill.

"And you, what are you doing in The Upper West Side? Your presence here is quite a surprise. Madison Avenue and its lounges are far."

She should have said something instead of remaining silent and giving him a chance to ask her the only question she really dreaded. But as if her lack of words hadn't been enough, her imagination faded away and the lies didn't come out.

"I was in Central Park."

"For a walk? But it has been raining all day long, only stopped a few minutes ago."

"I don't mind that much about it by then."

A young mother sat down at the table next hers, settled the stroller on a corner and proceeded to take out of it her toddler. The little boy didn't protest, on the contrary, and opened his arms to get released from his seat and find instead the warmth of his mother's lap. She had ordered a tea but had previously prepared a baby bottle of milk for her son along with a chocolate cookie.

Karen's eyes wandered from the woman to the tiny store luggage located under the stroller. A huge bag was there, wide opened and revealing a pair of diapers, a bottle of water and a few baby wipes.

That was the reason why Karen would probably never have a child. She sadly lacked the organization such status required.

"If you don't have another Central Park walk planned before tonight, would you like to have dinner at home with me?"

She was about to turn his offer down when he smiled.

It let her completely disarmed.

_You used to say that my gaze was as melancholic as the rain, that the words I slowly whispered by then sounded bitter and bare; that I would die of sadness for keeping it all quiet, and secret. But you didn't leave me enough time to do so and passed away before I did. Why did you have to be so selfish and force me to face all these things I don't manage to say? Just a rose for you, when it rains; and the vivid image of your face trying desperately to understand. _

_I miss you, Stan. I really do._


	3. In the Hands of Science

3. In the hands of science

"_One's real life is often the life that one does not lead."_

_Oscar Wilde._

The yellow bus stopped, its doors got opened and all of a sudden a dozen of toddlers stepped out of it _ little rucksacks on their back _ then followed a young woman to a brick wall building.

From her position opposite the street Karen observed the group with a barely hidden attention, focusing on the children's little steps; how they held each other's hands. The scene didn't set off any smile on her lips. She was too apprehensive for that, perhaps bitter as well. The truth was that she had stopped analyzing any feeling for such a long time that if she had been asked to do so, she wouldn't have been able to put a name on the odd, burning sensation that pressed over her chest.

As the last toddler disappeared inside the kindergarten lobby and the bus driver got away, she turned on her heels and stepped into the artificial insemination clinic.

She had found the place on the Web after a whole afternoon of research. From what could be read on their site, they had excellent results as well as laudatory reviews; their scientists being ones of the best of the country. Localized a few blocks away from her place, she had walked past the building a couple of times before taking a deep breath and calling them for an appointment.

It would be all informative; the very first, little tiny step towards what she hoped and saw as major changes.

As the doors of the elevator opened on the third floor, she instinctively tightened her grip on her bag then headed to the main counter where a young woman welcomed her with a bright, serene smile.

"Mrs. Walker, I presume? Good afternoon, we were waiting for you. Doctor Stones will see you in a moment once you have filled this application form. There is nothing to be worried about, it is only a questionnaire that will help the scientist to measure your medical possibilities. Please have a seat."

Her stilettos resounded loud on the marble floor and the contact of the leather chair against her legs turned cold. She swallowed hard, had a look around and closed her eyes for a few seconds as Will's image rushed to her mind.

They had had dinner together the day before _ following her rainy walk to Stanley's so-called stone _ and they had talked, a lot; about a thousand different things. At some point she had almost confessed him about the clinic and the burning hopes she held over it. He could have come along, being supportive; but the words hadn't come out and she had left with the weight of regrets upon her heart.

It wasn't tough but delicate; still rather blurry in her head.

Age

Height

Weight

Marital Status

Blood Type

Allergies

Past Medical Interventions

Gynecological Relevant Facts (operations, miscarriages...)

She froze if not panicked at all before the last question and with a shaking hand, wrote down what she felt like as sealing an unfortunate fate. The scientist arrived and reluctantly enough Karen followed her, knowing what would be said.

First trial: failed.

Twenty minutes resulted enough to reduce her shy fantasies to ashes, the breeze of September blowing it all away with the harshness of a bitter easiness; like a house of cards breaking down under a sudden move.

She hailed a cab, crossed Manhattan from East to West and only allowed herself to lean her head backwards then close her eyes as the first sip of Vodka warmed up her injured heart.

She probably felt asleep for a while because the sound of the door made her jump in surprise and as she turned around, realized that the night had fallen over New York in the meantime. Her head was heavy, the room spinning around.

The bottle of Vodka empty.

Will turned the lights on and looked at her with perplexity, obviously wondering why she had remained in the dark; sat on the sofa. He took his jacket off, grabbed her empty glass on his way to the kitchen and poured some wine in another one.

"What are you doing here?"

"I knocked on Jack's door but nobody answered so I came here."

Nodding thankfully at the glass he tended her, she sat up and settled on the sofa then contemplated the ceiling.

"How about hitting some bars tonight? I feel like going out."

"I am sorry but I can't. Grace is supposed to call me so I can talk with my adorable niece and most of all, today is the first Thursday of the month which means it is a movie night."

She avoided any comment about Sophia and how ridiculous Will was to hold hopes to talk over the phone to a new-born. She took a sip of her wine instead and frowned at nobody in particular.

"What kind of movie have you rented?"

"_La vita è bella_... You want to watch it with me?"

A father sacrificizing himself for his son... She did.

_If I had doubts for the first time, I didn't get any for the next ones. The physical pain is finally nothing compared to all the sentiments that rush to your head, all these cold questions that remain bare and unanswered; this immense loneliness spreading over. _

_This is biology _a mere, subtle dose of hormones _ but for whatever reason, you don't fit in it. Results have been cleared, I am not sterile. But my body rejects the idea of maternity._

_You have no idea what my miscarriages did to me, Stanley. You have no idea._


	4. Will and I

Part two: second trial

1. Will and I

"_Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending."_

_Maria Robinson._

New York socialite sphere rimed with elegant appearances, a stream of propriety as hypocritical as the speech of politicians. It wasn't just about gossip and long gazes _ meaningful smiles _ but a non-exhaustive list of implicit rules that shaped your spirit little by little until one morning you woke up to the feeling of having lost your own identity.

It had never bothered her, on the contrary. At some point she had seen it as the only escape that would be effective enough for her to turn the page over a past she hadn't managed to ever accept.

Then the years had gone by, with more or less success.

Stanley's death hadn't cut her from the socialite world, from so-called charity events people only attended to show off their presence; their disinterest for the cause supposedly supported being falsely silent by the check they waved at the end of the evening as if money would do the trick. The truth was that she would have never been able to take her distance with them. They were her family, as sharp and unbearable as they could be.

When she had begun to work for Grace and developed an improbable friendship with her, she had spaced her presence out at those parties. Not that she would have seen in her singular choice a subconscious desire to drop out everything but it had come up logically enough and she hadn't suffered from it. Besides Stanley seemed busier and busier at work, getting home exhausted at the end of the day; wanting nothing but to have a rest before the next morning.

She had learned to appreciate the routine, her constant journeys to The Upper West Side. She would have never said it out loud but the past few years had probably been the best of her life.

Then why had things changed?

Grace had got married, moved to Brooklyn and had a baby.

Stanley had passed away, leaving her alone with a ton of regrets.

"I don't remember you ever told us about this annual party before."

She turned her head around and smiled at a pouting Jack who seemed to have a hard time dealing with a couple of curlers. Whenever she had to attend a socialite event, he used to come earlier to observe and comment her long preparation. If it had sounded a bit awkward at the beginning, she had now grown accustomed to it and the day he would cease to stop by, she knew that she would miss him hard.

"Really? Then I may have forgotten... Though I am glad that Will and you are my two guests this year. I didn't feel like going there alone, not one more time."

The truth was that she had asked Will first and when Jack had learned about the party _ convinced he was invited as well _ she hadn't had the courage to say no. His excessive manners found certain sweetness in her private life but when it came to important evenings, Will's seriousness always ended up winning.

Even for Karen exuberance had its limits.

"Well... You know that you can always count on us if you feel a bit lonely."

She didn't have time to get carried away by Jack's unexpected seriousness as the door of the library flew open, revealing Will in a black, elegant tuxedo.

"Are you ready, _principessa_?"

A wide smile grew on her lips and she burst out laughing, hiding subtly the red that had embraced her cheeks.

Since Grace had given birth to Sophia, circumstances seemed to have pushed Will a bit more into her life. He had met her accidentally at Zabar's; she had landed at his place without any particular plan in mind...

And every time they had spent the whole evening together, alone, which had never really happened until then.

She stood up, nodded and left the room wondering if Will's allusion to the Italian movie they had watched together was an implicit way to tell her that he had noticed the single tear she had let roll up in her eyes at the end of the story. If she had had watched it alone, she would still feel her throat tighten at the mere evocation of it. Will's presence at the time had prevented her from openly, frankly crying.

They stepped out of the lobby of her building and got wrapped into the cold breeze of the night. The summer seemed to have really gone away, this time. Looking on her right, Karen shivered and instinctively tightened her grip over her shawl.

"Are you cold?"

For some reason she shook her head at Will, frowned and rolled her eyes instead.

"I simply wonder where this bloody limo is."

She enjoyed the evening. For the very first time since Stanley's funeral, life seemed to offer her softer shades, perhaps even a few hopes. She felt fine between Jack's impossible behavior and Will's attention, and some acquaintances she hadn't seen in a very long while.

She went back home later that night with a smile on her lips, a genuine one. And as she closed her eyes, slowly succumbing to her dreams, she excitedly thought about the next morning.

_Sometimes I think that you are about to cross the door, put down your brief case and pour yourself a glass of Scotch maybe even smoke a Cuban cigar. I don't know why I cling so much onto these irrational and ridiculous fantasies. It isn't like I have ever been in love with you... You know as well as I do that it wasn't the case, not even when we first met. The only sentiments I have for you are thankful ones because you saved me from a very dark patch. _

_Though I still need you, Stan._


	5. On Page Thirty Five

2. On page thirty-five

"_Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worse kind of suffering."_

_Paulo Coelho._

Her eyes wandered from the crib to the coffee table but didn't manage to get fixed on any of them. Actually, as soon as she tried to remain concentrated more than a few seconds on a point, a veil of embarrassment spread over her mind and she ended up looking down at her lap; uncomfortable as she was.

Of course it didn't pass unnoticed, which made it all even worse.

"Did she say when she wanted the first sketches?"

"She isn't in a hurry, especially since she leaves for The Hamptons at the end of the week."

If the subtlety of her words might have sounded perfectly innocent to strangers, the real meaning of her comment got straight to Grace's mind who smiled in a very quiet but nonetheless effective understanding.

The eventual client had money and offered a non-limited budget to the project. It was an opportunity Grace couldn't miss.

"I will call her and perhaps plan a viewing in a few days. Will can look after Sophia, she is almost a month old now so it should be okay. Anything else that deserves to be mentioned?"

"No, not really... Things have slowed down with your maternity leave. You got plenty of flowers, from clients, as well as soppy greeting cards."

A stifled sob on her right made her jump; tension suddenly paralyzing her muscles. She swallowed hard and looked _ worried _ at the crib where Sophia was sleeping. It might have seemed stupid but she dreaded the moment the baby would start crying, how she would feel disarmed by then and lost, in the way.

She had nothing against children, on the contrary. Though her mind and her body kept on showing her how maternity wasn't always instinctive.

"She kind of woke up for a micro-second, no big deal."

Still impressed, Karen nodded at her friend and looked around. She didn't like the borough of Brooklyn, constantly felt far from home as soon as she had to make her way to it. She didn't know the streets, even less the stores, and the boiling life of the island of Manhattan she had learned to grow addicted to only got reflected in a very shy murmur there, once passed The East River.

She didn't like quietness. It was too perfect to have a thought or two about details she would love to forget.

"Well... I should go, now."

Her anxiety was spreading fast over her mind and all of a sudden she found herself missing the crowd, the large sidewalks of Fifth Avenue, the lights of Times Square, Will and Jack...

"Already?"

The apparent serenity Grace had adopted all along fell down within a second as a veil of despair stole her features. She didn't get a lot of visits and might have been feeling a bit lonely.

"Yes, I need to run a few errands."

Karen stood up and as she was about to put her coat on, the phone rang; piercing the awkward silence loudly. She looked how her friend take the call before excusing herself in silence and leaving the room.

Long seconds passed by and if she hadn't turned around to grab her bag, Karen would have never noticed that she had been left alone with Sophia who even though she was sleeping, might have been about to wake up at any time.

As if her eyes would be enough to trouble the baby's sleep, Karen stared at the coffee table instead and grabbed a parental magazine then sat down back on the couch. As usual she began to leaf through it until her gaze got caught up by an article. It had nothing to do with fashion this time, though. No haute-couture, no designer party but simply a word written in bold, black letters. On page thirty-five.

The world stopped or at least broke down any connection with her brain. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest, her blood bumping against her temples and this weight _ unbearable _ on her mind, full of "what if" and pale hopes.

"Sorry, it was Leo. He managed to leave work earlier and is on his way home."

She dropped the magazine as if the pages had just burnt her skin then stood up and smiled at her friend, desperately looking for some teasing remark that never came to her mind.

She hated being taken by surprise.

"Alright then I go, now. Just tell me when you come to Manhattan, or give me a call. And if I have anything else in the meantime, I keep you updated as well."

She didn't notice the oppressive sensation vanish from her chest as her taxi crossed The Manhattan Bridge and led her home. Her mind was off, too busy to ever pay attention to what was going on around.

It had to be a sign.

She wanted to believe in it, drop out her Cartesian mind for once and trust the idea that life always had a soft side.

_You never asked me a child, never even alluded to it; not once. Could you not picture me out as a mother or were you simply not interested in having a family with me? _

_You have no idea how many times I wondered about it. Not that I would say yes and try my way into maternity but because children seem to be the logical suite we give to any marriage. _

_Perhaps I should have told you about it, been frank with you instead of keeping it all inside and swallow back the rage it caused every time your smile lit up your face at the allusion of Olivia and Mason. You were proud of them, would have done anything for them. _

_But you never showed me the slightest sign that you wanted to experience it with me at, any time._


	6. Will It ever Cease?

3. Will it ever cease?

"_If you have made mistakes, even serious ones, there is always another chance for you. What we call failure is not the falling down, but the staying down."_

_Mary Pickford._

The pain stirred up by her forceful smile had finally found an odd balance with the way her hands had grabbed the armchair and were now strongly clutched to it, her blood making its way to her fingertips with difficulty. Her heart was beating fast as well and her whole body seemed to have succumbed to an inevitable stress that, she hoped, passed nonetheless unnoticed.

The minutes were going too slow under heavy words. Nothing had really been said yet but for some reason, she was certain that it would fail. It always did.

"On financial terms, we couldn't ask for a better file than yours. You are the owner of several apartments around the city, live in a very safe area and have enough place to welcome someone in excellent conditions."

There was a 'but', she could sense it. Biting the inside of her mouth, she took a long, deep breath and kept on smiling, carried away by a strong despair that never came out but never left either. It remained there, trapped somewhere in between.

"The fact you are widowed isn't necessarily a problem even though it might slow down the process, bringing it to a couple of years instead of a few months for the most fortunate ones."

It was getting worse, little by little. Not only the arguments exposed by the woman were clearly adopting a very negative shade but the smile on her face was vanishing as well; her voice lowering uncomfortably.

Her teeth tightened their grip on her flesh and very soon the taste of blood slid along her mouth. She swallowed it hard but remained silent.

"If you choose a national plan, it could take up to five years. International criteria would allow you to close your file within the next twenty-four months, especially if you are interested in China or Haiti."

The tears rushed up to her eyes but she swept them away immediately, looking at the ceiling to concentrate on anything but the long wait she would have to face if she accepted the deal. Something had broken down inside and the shy fantasies she had dared to dream about were now flying away without the slightest last gaze towards her.

Two years were a waste of time she couldn't afford. She wasn't that young anymore and her nerves wouldn't handle it all along.

"The only detail that might close you the doors of adoption is your criminal record. You went to jail for three years... This is not a positive point in your application. If you decide to sign up for an adoption process, then an investigating committee will be held in order to accept or reject your request; no matters your case had nothing to do with children. I assume that you understand."

"How long would it take for the decision to be settled down?"

"Up to eight months, a year eventually... This is not against you, Mrs. Walker. It is for the good of the children."

The rain was falling over Manhattan as she stepped out of the building. She could have gone to Central Park _ should have, actually _ but instead she decided to cross Riverside Drive and headed down to the bank of The Hudson.

You couldn't hear the traffic there, barely see the buildings if you turned around and looked up through the trees. Time got suspended as the metallic sound of the boats rocked you to peace and took you away far, very far.

"I thought Zabar's was your final destination on rainy days, _principessa_."

She hadn't seen him approach. A couple of seagulls had caught up her attention a few seconds earlier and she hadn't noticed the presence of anyone, even less of Will.

"Not today."

Her mother having always blessed accidents and coincidences, she had embraced the idea that life had nothing left to hazard; that it was all determined since the very moment you began to breathe.

But for once, she had to recognize the oddity of a recurrence that had happened a lot lately; how whenever she felt down, Will appeared by her side like some guardian angel. And all of a sudden, he turned to be the only one able to understand.

"Are you alright?"

The lightness of his tone got substituted by a low voice, full of concern as the bare words she used hit the air with difficulty. His hand brushed her arm, she looked at the gesture and shook her head slowly.

"I don't want to be alone."

_We buried my father in a small town of Montana. This is where I was born and this is where he died. Morning of June taking away the fragile logic of my life... From then on everything changed and kept on doing so for a whole decade. We crossed the country from West to East, from North to South waiting sagely for our mother to finally settle down on a point. It could have been anywhere. We didn't mind that much as long as we could start building references and a semblance of routine. But she never did, never gave us any opportunity. _

_This is why I left when I was sixteen, why I have never wanted to rely on anyone, not even on you. It used to make you mad, to spread the gap between the both of us. But it has never been against you, Stan. _

_It is just me. _

_I don't know how to cope with the person I am. I don't get it._

_So think for just a second about maternity!_


	7. For a few Seconds in Life

Part three: third trial

1. For a few Seconds in Life

"_Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Just walk beside me and be my friend."_

_Albert Camus._

His hand was warm against hers, firm and determined in its grip but soft enough to let her understand that it would be okay; that they would do just fine. This is why she never protested, never said that she hated surprises _ information he already knew about, besides _ but on the contrary played along and followed him.

Trust. The word was short but owned a strength she wouldn't have denied, even if the previous years of her life had tended to bring major modifications to the meaning of the concept in itself. She had been lied to, used, abused at times before finally and shamefully enough doing the same to other people in a sort of latent vengeance that never really brought satisfying results.

Though it had become a weapon, a very addicting one.

Her stiletto landed in a puddle, water hitting her ankle icily. She made a face, bit the inside of her mouth to swallow back a wave of insults and sped up her pace instead to keep on following Will who was almost running now.

When she had refused to explain her unusual request to not remain alone the day before, he hadn't insisted and oriented the conversation towards another topic with enough diplomacy to sweep away the tension she had accumulated.

The hours had passed by and as she had been about to leave for her mansion in The Upper East Side, he had offered her to spend the night over in Grace's old bedroom. Had he guessed the despair that the perspective of finding herself alone had stirred up in her eyes? Probably. After all he knew her a lot more than what she would have accepted to recognize.

She had silently nodded at him, unable to decline.

The night hadn't taken away her sadness as she had hoped so but Will's mysterious plans the next morning hadn't let her enough time to concentrate on what she considered as a second failure and very soon they had found themselves running after a ferry on one of the piers of Lower Manhattan.

Her high heels resounded loud on the metallic stairs of the boat as they stepped on it before incredulous gazes, breaking down the silence of the place through childish laughs and lousy steps.

Trying desperately to catch up her breath, she stopped in the middle of the rows but Will tightened his grip on her hand and kept on running towards the upper deck.

The cool air hit her face and she took a long breath as they finally made it outside, up on the ferry. With shaking ankles she grabbed a seat and sat down on it. She was exhausted.

A few seconds passed by before she turned her head around and looked at Will sat by her side. He seemed serene, perfectly fine. Obviously his Sunday morning joggings kept him a lot healthier than her constant smoking and drinking.

"Staten Island?"

A dubious smile played on her lips to accompany her question but the only answer she got turned out to be a timid, mysterious nod from Will.

None of them spoke for the rest of the journey. It is only when she stepped back on the ground and felt his hand slide on her waist that he finally pronounced his first words, whispered against her ear.

"Let's just put everything aside for a day... And let yourself carry away."

The gray sky looked after her smiles, all day long. Little by little she left everything behind and confided in Will, succumbing to the charms of Richmond County where time seemed to have been suspended to fully embrace a very unique quietness.

She loved Manhattan for its boiling life, its addicting and perpetual activity but in spite of all, she surprised herself enjoying Staten Island a lot more than she would have thought possible for it to be at the antipodes of her day-to-day references.

She cruelly lacked novelty to properly enjoy her life.

"You come here very often, don't you?"

They had been walking through the streets for an hour or so, Will finding an obvious pleasure in telling her about historical remarks _ peculiar anecdotes _ that a novice wouldn't have been able to mention.

Her question made him smile. Hands in the pockets of his jacket, he shrugged as if embarrassed.

"We all have a getaway, don't we?"

"Sure..."

"Where is yours?"

A yellow tulip caught up her attention on her left, its petals moving like waves under the breeze of September. She observed it for long seconds _ her arms crossed against her chest _ as Will's question was resounding in her head over and over.

Everyone had a getaway. She had agreed with Will instinctively. Though now that she had been asked about it on a personal matter, the question had turned blurry and made her uncomfortable.

She swallowed hard as the odd, sad conclusion finally imposed itself to her mind.

"I guess I don't have any."

_I have hated every single one of your business trips. From the very first one that led us to Rome to the last one, in Bulgaria. You always asked me to come along as if it would compensate the vacations you didn't have time to take and even less share with me. But it didn't; it didn't do anything good to us._

_We never had any other project than our wedding. And the day you slid this ring on my finger, our relation vanished. If I tried to convince myself that it had only faded away, now I am sure that it had actually got broken into pieces. _

_Perhaps we shouldn't have married. _

_Perhaps we weren't mean to be, together. _

_Though I still wish you would have been sweet and honest to me, Stan. For a few seconds in life... Just as Will does right now._


	8. Pumkins Ghosts and Babies

2. Pumpkins, ghosts and babies

"_Stay committed to your decisions, but be flexible in your approach."_

_Tom Robbins._

Her eyes wandered from a spider net to the different shades of orange that a flame produced in a carved pumpkin before getting reflected on the sticky, wooden table. As a solo of drums suddenly pierced in the background, she couldn't help jumping in surprise; her face distorted by the pain stirred up by the loud music.

She would have chosen a quieter place, not necessarily intimate but at least a cafe where they would have been able to talk without having to guess three out of five syllables. But since she was the one in a precarious, uncertain position, she hadn't had her word to say.

Swallowing back her discomfort, she took a sip of her cappuccino and smiled at the young woman sat in front of her drinking down a soda.

"Do you like it here? They have great bands on Thursday nights... We used to come very often, my boyfriend and I. That was before. Now I... I don't know. It isn't the same anymore."

The noticeable regretful tone in the last sentence vanished under a few applause as the band finished a song and announced a ten-minute break. She put her mug back on the table and caressed the Halloween plastic skull attached to it.

"I don't really know what to say. I am sorry... Since you called me, I haven't stopped thinking about this moment and the truth is that there is no conversational guide to make it sound right, and good enough. I am not used to this at all."

She would have never dared to say such a thing if an acquaintance had been in the same room, able to overhear the conversation.

Not only hadn't she hidden her obvious fragility but she had also dared to recognize it, implicitly enough but still, it was there and clear. She had needed courage to do so, and a sincere despair over a situation she couldn't bear any longer.

The young woman nodded.

"I understand. It isn't easy. Now let's see, what can I tell you? Because after all, I am the one from whom everything kind of depends, right? Well... I am looking for a very family-spirit environment, a place I know will be the most balanced possible with a real implication in the child's life. Non-smoking people would be the best. In the city or in the suburbs... That I don't really mind. I love Manhattan, grew up here and will never regret that. I don't want any direct interaction with the child but a letter and photos from time to time would be nice. A semi-open adoption, in a word. Here is the ultra-sound picture I had last week and everything is going alright. The baby should be here in March, end of the month. Then of course, if I choose you, we will meet my attorney and sign all the papers. Until now I have met three other people. You are the very last one because I want to take a decision very soon, now. In a week or so."

Karen grabbed the black and white picture but her lack of habit won over the rest and all she could notice resulted to be an amount of blurry whiteness.

In spite of her pink hair, her nose rings and her young features, Hope had looked a lot older as she had begun to talk about the whole process. Obviously her pregnancy had precipitated an important maturity that would remain throughout her life like a sort of invisible detail you would sense but be unable to properly point out.

Something in her gaze, perhaps. Unless the low tone of her voice could betray it all, laconic and cold.

"These are wise choices, understandable and right."

"Why do you want to have a child?"

The question took her aback; no mattered it was fair. As much as she had focused on the idea of maternity for a while now, Karen actually had never thought about the exact essence of this sudden desire. It was just there, might have been all along but only awoken when she had taken Sophia in her arms.

She had never felt so lonely from then on.

"I feel incomplete and pointless."

Her own revelation turned harsher than a slap in her face and she instinctively bit the inside of her mouth to held back the tears. How could she have come to such a low self-esteem?

"And... Well..."

On the other side of the table Hope suddenly moved, nervously. The sharp honesty in Karen's reply had taken her by surprise, made her feel uncomfortable somehow. She hadn't meant to get pregnant and there she was when other women ran after nothing but it for their whole life.

If nature had some justice, maternity was out of the plan.

"I haven't really checked your file in detail except the agency counselor's annotations but... I wanted to know... And this is a very important point for me. As I said, I am looking for a balanced environment and a family-spirit place. So are you married? I don't want to sound harsh or anything but I don't want a single-parent scheme for the baby. I think both figures, maternal and paternal, are required."

She didn't even let a second pass by or better said, the words didn't let any chance to the time for awkwardness and doubts because at this moment, her brain broke down its connection to her heart.

And she lied.

"I am engaged. Will. Will is his name. He is an attorney."

_I have always been unable to lie to you. If I tried a couple of times, the words didn't make it to my lips and I abandoned the idea rather quickly. I remained quiet, though. All along... And that hurts a lot more than any kind of lie, Stan. _

_Do you remember about our very first moments together? The first year. You used to say I was a dreamer. It made you smile. But then you grew tired of it and at the end it only got you exasperate. I don't like the harshness of this world, the cynicism of our feelings and the way they control us. I just kept on dreaming of the life I had hoped to share with you at some point. It wasn't a getaway from you, on the contrary. If only you could have heard and understood my silent distress._

_Her name is Hope. Hope... Isn't that a sign? If you had been here next to me right now, you would have nodded and smiled._

_I might have disliked my silence but Lord knows how I have hated your lies. They have never been a problem for you. Their regularity was sharp, and hard._


	9. Deal or Leave

3. Deal or Leave

"_An idea, to be suggestive, must come to the individual with the force of revelation."_

_William James._

It was only a matter of seconds now before she looked up into his eyes and revealed it all to him. Her heart was pounding loud, bumping against her chest with strength while the words she would use were spinning around in her head. She had thought about them meticulously, studied their weight and the roles they could play in every single one of her sentences. Then she had built a scheme strategically because Hope had called her in the morning.

She had been chosen for the adoption.

Convincing Will was now necessary; no mattered she had lied and used him.

"You are very quiet, tonight."

Jack had left a few minutes ago but the apprehension she had developed about the upcoming revelation and Will's potential reaction had involuntarily plunged her into a deep silence. She didn't want to hurt him and even less risk to damage the relation they had built lately. She could lose it all, within a second; from a friendship to her only chance to ever experience maternity.

"I am going to have a child."

The diplomacy she had worked on all day long in her head suddenly flew away and she went straight to the point, dropping a bomb without any tact. She hadn't even looked at him but cowardly stared at her hands on her lap.

"You are pregnant?"

"No..."

She cast a glance at him as he slowly made his way out of the kitchen and headed towards her. He looked surprised, obviously taken aback and a bit perplexed. It hurt somehow; she would have loved that for once, someone found rightness and logic in her words.

"I didn't know that you wanted to have a child. Are you thinking about adoption or insemination?."

Very slowly, Will sat down on the old leather armchair then leaned his chin against the back of his hand.

"Actually I have been chosen for a semi-open adoption this morning. Or better said, we have been chosen."

"Whom are you talking about?"

She had hoped that he would understand by himself. He might have thrown a fit but at least she would have avoided the necessity to say the words out loud, those ones that would highlight the way she had been lying for a child.

"You... She only accepted couples so I said we were one."

Only a few seconds passed by but they embraced the shapes of eternity as Will remained quiet, completely blank. Contrasting oddly with her latent fear, her eyes were fixed on his and she couldn't stop staring at him; perhaps in search of a sign of anger, of disillusion. But nothing came up.

"Excuse me?"

The coldness of his voice spread to her skin, passing underneath it before running through her blood. A shiver ran down her spine; tears welled up in her eyes.

"I didn't mean to do so. It wasn't planned at all... But it was my last chance and the words came out like that, by themselves. Insemination would fail and a traditional adoption would take years if I ever had the right to it because of... Some mistakes I have made in the past. And then this girl calls me, pushed by the counselor of the adoption agency. She is eager to meet me, everything is going fine until she tells me about the only thing she really wants for this baby: a family scheme, with a father and a mother."

"Why did you choose me?"

"Because when I think about children, you are the best father I can ever imagine."

Her sincerity touched him even though he didn't recognize it. A long sigh escaped from his lips and pushed by the surrealist scene he was living, Will stood up then passed his hand through his hair; looked up at the ceiling.

"This is crazy... Damn, how could anyone believe that we are involved into some sort of romantic relationship?"

"Actually I told her that we were about to get married."

While he was now pacing the room nervously like a gangster looking for a solution to escape from the police, her new revelation stopped him in his tracks and he locked his eyes with hers, a mock of despair on his face.

"What were you thinking about? We don't even live together."

"I am going to sell the mansion and buy the apartment above this one."

"You can't. Someone has put an option on it a few days ago."

"I know... It is me."

Astonished, Will approached her and finally chose to sit back on the armchair to settle in a real face-to-face the explosive situation required.

"You have thought about it all, haven't you?"

"We can built an inside stairs to connect both apartments. You would stay here and I would live upstairs so we wouldn't even need to see each other all the time and yet the baby _ our child _ would be able to go from one to another whenever he or she would feel like to."

Her argument was fragile yet realistic enough but Will remained silent and one more time, she swallowed back her tears.

"Listen... I don't ask you to fall in love with me. You will always have your freedom, always be able to date and build a relationship with anyone."

"But what if we are married?"

"We will get a divorce! Once the adoption is sealed, nobody can come backwards."

As much as she had used all the arguments she had thought about, her discomfort was still strong and heavy on her mind. She didn't feel fine.

She looked how his face suddenly disappeared in the palms of his hands, how the notion of despair could win over someone within a mere second. And she stayed there, disarmed.

"I don't understand, Karen... I... Why?"

The pressure got too strong and she felt the first tears run down her cheeks as she shrugged at him, looking up at the ceiling.

"The way you are with Sophia... It is obvious you want a child. Maybe it is your only chance in this life, I mean... We both know that if you try to adopt, it is going to be hard. You have no idea how I felt this morning when Hope told me that I would be the one... Who knows? What if it were the best that could ever happen to us? And if there is something certain, it is that when I look at you, I couldn't dream of a better father for my child."

_I really thought that it would happen, once. I had been tired and the dates had got mixed in my head. So I bought a test, with Jack. He is the only one who ever knew about this. No mattered the result, I wanted to tell you about it. _

_I even called but the words stayed trapped inside. A few hours later, you sent me a fax, telling me that I wouldn't see you that night because you had a last-minute trip to Chicago. The test turned out to be negative but I had gone too far, too quickly. When I came back home at the end of the day, I went to lock myself in this little room you never knew about. _

_And between the crib _ the teddy bears _ my silent cries met the bitterness of a few fantasies I shouldn't have tried to dream about._


	10. Black and White Photos

Part four: installation

1. Black and white photos

"_A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it."_

_John Steinbeck._

Time seemed to have blown over the shining platinum, bringing an antique shade to the metal and emphasizing thus the purity of the emerald melted in its center. Since Will had offered the ring to her, she had spent entire hours observing it around her finger. The paleness of her skin contrasted delicately with the green gem as the subtlety of the design gave all its elegance to the jewel.

He had found it at an antique boutique in Soho. Against all expectations, she had been seduced by the idea and loved fantasizing about the previous life the ring had had; the kind of fingers it had known before ending up on hers, if only for a while. It might have gone through a whole century, experienced various love stories then had flown away when the union had vanished. Sold like a soul...

"Okay, I am ready."

Will's voice took away her daydreams. She grabbed a bath towel then stepped out of the tub.

"I am coming!"

Two weeks had passed by since she had said it all to him. The sincerity of her words unless it had been the rightness of her judgment _ she wouldn't have been able to tell _ had pushed Will to accept her deal and within twenty-four hours her life had tipped over.

She had put the mansion on sale, had bought the apartment upstairs Will's as Jack and Grace had got to learn about their unusual, odd plans. There had been no fight, no drama whatsoever and if a heavy silence had firstly floated above their heads, it had quickly got substituted by a strong yet unexpected support.

Grace's recent maternity had probably softened her reaction and allowed her to take some distance with the whole situation, strengthened by the falsity of the so-called marriage; Jack being thrilled by the perspective of a second baby around.

The staircase between both apartments had been installed the very next day as they had come upon some new decisions. Since her floor was a bit smaller and only had one bedroom, she hadn't kept the kitchen _ they would share his _ and decided to make of the large living-room her own master bedroom instead as the sliding doors Will had immediately taken out when moving in his own apartments would remain to allow her to still have a lounge area if she ever invited some friends over.

Grace's old bedroom had turned into Will's office _ its space getting reduced by the staircase _ and the nursery would be installed on the first floor of their duplex; the room just above Will's very own.

In a gesture of anticipation when their child grew and claimed for independance and a private bathroom that was presently located next to the future nursery, she had got plumbers to build an en suite bathroom to her bedroom in the area Will used _ on the floor below _ as a television one. If for years she had been able to admire Manhattan from her tub, now the skyline would still be there but through a blurry shape, behind glass bricks.

The works had taken a week and a half. In the meantime, they had met Hope to sign all the papers and got married to the courthouse.

Life had taken them away in a whirl of thousand plans, endless projects and runs all over the city and for the very first time that evening, they managed to finally begin to settle down and catch up their breath.

The sensation of her bathrobe warming up her skin, Karen made her way out of her bedroom, crossed the corridor and went downstairs. In a desire to know Hope a little better and to show her the environment the baby she was carrying would live in they had invited her over their apartment the very next day.

Which meant they needed traces of their so-called relation, from details like Will's book on a bedside table in the master bedroom of the first floor to pictures that any couple logically owned.

Jack and Grace had taken some of their marriage they had actually celebrated as the success of their upcoming adoption and day after day, they had kept on making a few shots.

"How many of them have you selected?"

Sat at the round-table, Will typed on his laptop and opened a file: their photo album.

"Five... We have over eighty shots right now but I am not going to print them all. I only bought five frames so..."

They reviewed them all together with an odd complicity that their marriage had settled down little by little, printed the shots and installed the frames on strategical places over the duplex.

A few hours later as she was about to put her book on the bedside table, her eyes caught up one of their photographs.

Black and white, the day of their wedding.

Hand in hand, they had sat down on the outside steps of the courthouse and were looking at each other with respective bright smiles. If their genuine happiness found its essence in other reasons than their union, there was still something troubling that emanated from the scene.

And all of a sudden you forgot about the falsity of their marriage. It looked sincere, like the rare ones that made it through the years before reaching eternity.

_Why did you marry me, in the first place? Was it because I had pushed you to divorce Cathy and you felt then obligated? I am not sure that I understand, that I have ever understood the least of your choices. It is not that I blame you _ I could have turned you down, after all _ but don't you think it is odd that a fake union like the one I have with Will still sounds righter than the deal you made me sign? I do. I really do, Stan._


	11. A Mug of Tea

2. A Mug of Tea

"_Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person's character lies in their own hands."_

_Anne Frank._

The pressure found its essence in the depth of her nape then spread to her head before hitting her temples through consecutive waves. The need to go to a quieter place became insisting as the symptoms of an upcoming migraine appeared and so she left the room, passing completely unnoticed to the dozen of people who were there.

The conversations soon turned into a soft brouhaha in the background and as she reached the first floor of the apartment, they simply ceased, got replaced by a peaceful silence. But instead of heading to her bedroom, she pushed the door on her left and entered the room Will had painted the day before. They had chosen a neutral white, agreeing on pale wooden shelves to match the hard floor and still contrast with the walls.

She sat on the rocking chair, looked around.

The room was a mess. Cardboard boxes had been abandoned everywhere _ shoes and scarves emerging from them _ as paintbrushes from the day before were still in a glass that had served to clean them.

The few sketches she had bought hadn't left yet their plastic bag hung on the doorknob. They hadn't even purchased a crib.

"You still have a few months left, don't be worried."

Her feet stopped the movement of the chair and she opened her eyes only to see Marilyn standing on the door frame; her arms crossed against her chest, a soft smile on her lips.

"Hmm... I just have this feeling we will never be ready on time."

The headache was now pressing just over her eyes. If it went on like that, she would have no choice but go to bed and fall asleep to let the pain vanish.

"Oh, you will... It isn't necessary to buy anything special before the eighth month, you know. Even though nowadays pregnancies have a better checkup than what we used to have, don't rush into things."

"Yes. Yes, true enough. Though we needed to do something with this room. I mean since I moved in, the apartment has been under major works so putting some finishing to it was a priority. At least for the painting."

Karen's eyes wandered from Marilyn to the top of a shelf. A tea kettle, some bags of tea and a few mugs were there.

"Would you like some tea?"

None of them spoke until they held their respective mugs, the heat of the tea caressing their face softly. Someone had put music on, downstairs, and the voice of Sarah Vaughan was making its way to the room in a warm embrace.

"You don't like Thanksgiving, Karen, do you?"

"All this food, this perpetual talking... These family reunions remain a complete mystery to me."

"Don't tell me you didn't celebrate it with your relatives."

Marilyn laughed at her own comment, the incongruity of the developed idea getting lost in an ocean of impossible facts.

Karen didn't take it bad and looked at her lap as an apologetic smile played on her lips. If she had always liked not fitting in the crowd, sometimes she would have wished nothing but to disappear among normality for it being terribly reassuring.

"As far as I can remember, I am afraid that we didn't. I didn't have the usual childhood, you know. It used to be rather hectic. There was no family reunion whatsoever and Christmas or Thanksgiving were just dates like any other in the calendar."

"Is this the reason why you want a child? The reason why you married Will..."

The frank question took her aback even though at the end it was rather fair, and justified. After all, Marilyn had never complained about the unexpected idea of the adoption or the fake marriage; hadn't said anything when she had probably been surprised _ if not astonished _ by it, like anyone.

"You can be sure that I will never make my child live what I had to go through at an early age. Perhaps it is a sort of revenge over what I lacked, yes... And so what? I only want a child's happiness at the end."

"And... As for my son? What will happen when you divorce?"

"I don't see what you mean. We all know that this whole thing is a fake one so what about Will? It won't change anything between the two of us."

"But this child whom will be yours two... If you ever meet someone and want to live something with this person, who will be responsible for this child? Who will have the custody over the other?"

_You always reproached me to stick to appearances, to never dig deeper to find the real reasons of things. Not that you insinuated that I was shallow or stupid but still... I know that you would have wished me to analyze my life with more care and maturity. _

_And you were right._

_It is just that it scares me, Stan. _

_So I rush into a couple of projects and try not to think about all the what-ifs. Just in case things will turn bad... At least I would have had my time of ingenuous life._

_I let go of everything and we will see tomorrow, adapt ourselves to the new scene. And if you don't fail at it, the power of control you are sure to own is unbelievable; crazy._

_I have no idea what will happen to this child if Will and I grow apart. _

_I have no idea if I really want to find someone and get a whole new life._

_If I dug into these, a thousand questions would come up like why did we never celebrate Thanksgiving together when we were supposed to be a family?_

_You see, this is why I prefer to stick to appearances. Analyzes are too harsh for me._


	12. Sophia's World

3. Sophia's World

"_By building relations we create a source of love and personal pride and belonging that makes living in a chaotic world easier."_

_Susan Lieberman. _

The door had got closed but she hadn't cried. Actually, as soon as her mother had disappeared Sophia had focused on a small, purple ball then begun to play around.

She could have grown tired of it very quickly but as the months were passing by and she had been building her own personality, Grace's daughter seemed to have developed a strong attention and dedication to all her activities: taking her time to fully analyze her new environment before allowing herself to finally play and so she remained concentrated for quite a long while.

She was a quiet child, easy-going and laid-back. Grace could take her to the office for a whole morning and there wouldn't be cries, only soft giggles and a deep silence as soon as the toddler observed the world go around.

Perhaps that was why Karen had grown attached to her. Sophia's temper was reassuring somehow, extremely peaceful. She wouldn't throw a fit to you for being unsure or awkward.

The baby's nape settled naturally against her inner arm and as the bottle of milk made contact with the tiny lips, Karen relaxed. She had never fed a child and even less such a young one. When she had sat down on the sofa and taken Sophia in her arms, a thousand questions had rushed to her mind.

All had pounded her lack of capacity to take care of someone.

"See, you are doing just fine."

Heat ran up her cheeks as she cleared her voice in a semblance of reply but her eyes caught up Will's finger as he began to caress the baby's temple in a slow, sweet motion.

Since in a few months they would welcome their own child, they had come to the conclusion that babysitting Sophia a few times before would help them to settle down in their upcoming role of parents. Grace had accepted and there they were now, alone for the first time with a four-month-old child.

"How about we go to the park after her nap?"

"It is snowing..."

Staying at the apartment all day long with her niece made Karen feel anxious, and oppressed as if the place was too narrow to contain her nervousness. She needed to go out then take a deep breath as the icy wind of December would give life back to her lungs.

"Then how about some Christmas shopping? We could go to The Enchanted Forest... There is no way for me to ever pass the doors of FAO Schwarz on a December Saturday afternoon."

They put Sophia to sleep, shared a quiet lunch and kept on talking to sweep away the awkwardness that the unusual situation had stirred up.

If their sudden marriage and cohabitation had logically made them get closer, the sensation to have reached another stage in the morning was strong yet a little bit destabilizing. It had gone faster, all of a sudden.

And perhaps they weren't ready for that.

The baby woke up a couple of hours later and following Karen's suggestion, they decided to go out. But as they left the lobby of the building and began to walk down Riverside Drive, the snow came back with strength pushing them to cancel their plan.

So they headed to a coffee store instead, near Amsterdam.

The place was crowded but they managed to find a table by one of the large windows. Will settled the stroller in a corner, took Sophia out of it and tended her to Karen.

"What do you want to drink? I will order."

"A cappuccino..."

"Okay, take her coat off. She is going to be way too hot in it."

But this is when she saw him leave for the other end of the room that Karen realized she had been left alone with a four-month-old child. Instinctively, she stood up and was about to go for Will when she noticed the chairs and tables too close to her, preventing her from doing so. Resigned she sat back on her chair and gave a pale smile to Sophia who was up on her lap.

With shaking hands she slowly unzipped the baby's coat then carefully took it off, biting the inside of her mouth to restrain her frustration. She hated being like that, insecure and alone. She felt ridiculous and pointless, ashamed. Completely disarmed.

But as she finally released her niece from the coat, Sophia tended her arms towards her before letting herself lean against her chest; tiny hands getting clutched around her nape.

As much as it was pure awkwardness, it looked like a hug and Karen decided to respond to the embrace holding tight against her Grace's daughter.

She kissed the top of Sophia's head as her eyes focused on Will who was far in the background.

"She has her father's eyes but your graceful features!"

The comment came from an old woman sat at the table on her left. Sophia sat back on her lap, Karen looked at her interlocutor and frowned, a bit taken aback.

"Oh... She... We..."

She cast a glance at Will who was coming back with two mugs of coffee then smiled at the woman, brightly.

"Thank you."

_He is nice, attentive and reliable. Perhaps he lied to me in the past _ still does _ but I don't mind. I know that I can trust him because he will always be here for me. We speak a lot together, about everything. And the truth is that when he isn't around, I miss him. _

_Isn't it strange how I seem to have it all with Will when it should have been you instead? Isn't it odd things seem so right while there are no sentimental feelings involved?_

_Yet I can't live without him anymore. I need him to go on; no matters how our lives might turn at some point. I just wish I could be his forever and then he would be mine. _

_Though it should have been you, Stan._


	13. On Christmas Time

4. On Christmas Time

"_From home to home and heart to heart, from one place to another. The warmth and joy of Christmas brings us closer to each other."_

_Emily Matthews._

"It is when I started looking for something that I realized I didn't know you so well but still, I hope that you will enjoy this... Merry Christmas, Hope."

Before the young woman's obvious surprise, Karen took the present out of her bag then put it down on the table with a timidity substituting the discomfort she had felt while shopping for not even knowing the person who actually was carrying her child. It had turned the situation upside down in her head, but mostly in her heart and from then on she had sworn to herself that she would try to get closer to Hope, on one way or another.

"You didn't have to."

"Oh, it is just a little something. No big deal..."

"Of course, it is!"

Hope's sudden vehemence and determination made her jump but she didn't add anything; only suggested her to unwrap the present with a vague gesture of the hand.

The flame of excitement in Hope's eyes found a reflection in her gasp as she discarded the sober paper then opened the little squared box she was holding in shaking hands. Her reaction made Karen smile. There was a naivety in the young woman's behavior that tended to soften it all, preciously enough.

"It is a white gold ring with your name engraved on it. But as you see, there is a sort of second ring melted in it somehow. I would like to add the name of the baby once you give life to him, or her."

Hope opened her mouth to reply but remained silent for a few seconds _ her eyes riveted on the jewel _ before finally shaking her head; frowning.

"I can't accept it. This is way too much, Karen."

"Oh no, it isn't. In comparison of what you are offering to Will and I, I can tell you that it is not too much."

If she had been surrounded by friends or even mere acquaintances, she would not have been able to say it all for her thought being so intimate, for putting her in a position of implicit fragility.

It wasn't that she didn't accept it but preferred to keep it for herself. That way things would seem easier to be dealt with.

She came back home an hour later, walking all the way up to Amsterdam. If the wind was icy, at least it made her feel alive; caressing her nape, burning her cheeks. She needed it if she didn't want to cry. Because as much as she liked Hope, she was envious all the time.

She opened the door of the apartment to the smell of gingerbread men and to the sound of a soft music playing in the background. If there was something she had always appreciated about Will, it was this balance he brought along constantly; all these elements she had missed for too many years. It sent her back to a time where her life was still easy, genuinely happy.

Just before her father's death and the beginning of a whole different story.

"I thought that you were supposed to work on a last-minute case."

Abandoning her coat on the sofa, Karen made a few steps towards the kitchen but stopped soon enough as she realized that Will was nowhere to be seen.

"I was... Until I saw the box of decorations and decided to open it."

A the sound of Will's voice, she turned on her heels and passed behind the tree they had bought the day before; making it to the television area where she found him sat on the floor, lost among red and green tinsels.

She sat down by his side, grabbed a gingerbread man from a plate then bit in it.

"Looks like you might need some help with your tinsels. They are all tangled!"

A laugh accompanied her comment as she picked up a golden tinsel to wrap it around her neck like a scarf. She was feeling fine by Will's side, secured even though it was rather unexpected.

She wouldn't have imagined that living with him could have turned into such a positive experience, a sort of personal relief.

She let him do as he bent over and tried to untangle the tinsel she had put on a few seconds before, his fingers brushing her neck and her shoulder blades.

It all sounded innocent, and was actually until her eyes met his then it turned upside down in her head. Thoughts got lost in blurriness as her heart began to pound loud against her chest.

Too many wonders, too little time.

She barely bent over and let his lips find hers. Perhaps it was just because it hadn't happened in so long and she had cruelly missed the warmth coming from a kiss, but as Will's hand made its way to her waist and deepened their embrace, a boiling sensation began to appear in her lower stomach, spreading its strength to her whole body.

She sighed in his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck, and was slowly succumbing to the kiss when the door of the apartment got slammed.

They broke apart immediately and barely had time to share an uncomfortable gaze before Jack appearing on their left, all smiles.

"Do I smell gingerbread men?"

_You preferred me to stay quiet when in public and even if you never admitted it, I know that you wouldn't have insisted if I had decided to stay at home instead of attending some charity event, any important socialite party. You thought that I would screw it up at some point, that I was unable to get any positive result of some sort. How I have hated you for this, Stanley. _

_How I have hated you for being right all along._

_And as you see, I keep on screwing up everything._


	14. Whatever Happened

5. Whatever happened

"_If we deny love that is given to us, if we refuse to give love because we fear pain or loss, then our lives will be empty, our loss greater."_

_Anonymous._

As soon as she had laid down in bed and tried to fall asleep, her eyes had in fact ended up observing the hours flying away on her alarm o'clock until the sun pierced through the French windows of her small terrace.

Remorse. They had deprived her of dreams as soon as she had broken apart, taking some distance with the kiss she had shared with Will and let reality hit them harshly.

Whenever she thought about it, she felt like she had betrayed everyone which made her feel ashamed; sad. They hadn't talked about it, carefully avoided to ever make an allusion to it but as much as they pretended that nothing had happened or damaged their relation, it would never be the same anymore. She knew it, but now it was too late and she had no other choice but to deal with it.

A knock on the door swept away her daydreams and made her jump, settle up in the tub. It might have been Christmas Eve but the frenzy of the date didn't seem to have the slightest hold over the apartment that had been plunged in silence for most of the day.

Will poked his head inside before daring a shy step in the room, hands in his back. He seemed to sort of relax while noticing that the bubble bath hid most of her body, a few feet away from him.

"At what time would you like to have dinner?"

If Grace's absence had always been evident, Jack's renunciation to share the Christmas Eve meal with them had been a very uncomfortable surprise. While deciding to spend the evening with his mother, he had pushed them to a very dreaded face-to-face that would probably only find a coward reflection in some heavy quietness; and embarrassment.

"I don't know... Give me an hour to be presentable."

Will left and she waited for long minutes before stepping out of the tub, then putting on a bathrobe. As much as she had meticulously applied lipstick, she still could feel his kiss on her flesh, the warmth of his own lips on hers. The problem didn't lay in the gesture in itself but the sensation it had stirred up, how she had enjoyed it.

It wasn't right and one more time, she had screwed up everything.

She made it downstairs an hour later wearing a dark red, ankle-length dress she had bought for the occasion a few weeks before when their relation was still fair and logical enough. She had found its low-cut sexy by then, yet pretty elegant and contrasting with the paleness of her complexion. Now the allure she was supposed to own while wearing it had got substituted by a deep and honest discomfort but for some reason, she had still wanted to put it on.

"Would you like a glass of wine or champagne?

Will had been in the kitchen most of the afternoon, feeding the apartment of delicious smells; making it all alive. For years she had desperately looked for the reason of her penthouse coldness without any success until her recent moving to The Upper West Side when she had realized that a cozy place could emanate from the simplest details; music played in the background, a deep attention and dedication to a homemade meal...

"Champagne... At what time do we have to be at your parents tomorrow?"

As fake as her marriage to Will could have been, for the very first time dealing with her family-in-law constituted a solid point in her life. Besides most of the Truman relatives had no idea about the artificiality of their union so they had to pretend, at least for the baby who would come.

"Around noon, I would say."

They began to drink and as the minutes passed by, alcohol helped them to go through their embarrassment. They had dinner and kept on talking all along, still avoiding the slightest reference to what had happened behind the tree a few days before.

The clock struck twelve and if they had previously unwrapped most of their presents with Jack and Grace, a couple of them had remained on the floor for the exact date.

A cookbook for him; an antique mirror for her.

"You haven't stopped saying that you needed one just above your fireplace."

She nodded, smiling. For years she had received diamonds and poor, sad excuses for a lack of presence on Christmas Eve. She was glad that for once, someone had actually thought about her in other terms than long-term investments to avoid arguments.

"Let's fix it on the wall right now, if you want."

Leaving the candles burn down slowly on the table, Will grabbed the mirror and headed upstairs with it. She followed him, a bit taken aback by his move, so sudden for someone who had always been reluctant to go to the first floor.

His self-restraint about her own space used to make her smile even though at times she would have liked him to dare, to be bold then push the door of her bedroom especially in a day of quiet despair.

Sat on her bed, she observed him in silence as he hung the mirror on the wall within a few minutes. He came to sit by her side, then, looked into the same direction as her.

She wouldn't have been able to say how long they remained still like that next to each other. They hadn't stopped the music downstairs and the melody was coming to them by waves, with delicacy.

She didn't push him away as his hand cupped her face and his lips captured hers in a kiss.

_I don't know about anything anymore. _

_I don't know why you had to die before, why I ended up so bitter and lost, why we got married; why we argued so much. I wish you were still here by my side, then perhaps you would be able to tell me why. _

_Why, Stanley, why?_

_Why had I never felt anything in your arms when Will makes me feel so alive?_


	15. Lonely Thoughts

6. Lonely thoughts

"_Each contact with a human being is so rare, so precious, one should preserve it."_

_Anaïs Nin._

She woke up to the sound of rustling; someone moving in bed_ in her back _ against the sheets. She opened her eyes but didn't turn around and stared at the buildings instead, through the French window. The sky was gray, bringing a powerful contrast to the dark shades of the bricks as some snow flakes were still falling quietly. She had always loved New York in the morning.

It looked bare, of a singular and abrupt beauty.

His knee brushed the back of hers and as his hand traveled up her bare arm in a soft caress, he planted a kiss on her shoulder before holding her tightly; her back against his chest.

"Good morning."

His hoarse voice made her smile, deciding her to finally roll on her back to be able to look at him properly. She didn't say anything, just stared at his brown eyes for long seconds as memories of the night were rushing back to her head with intensity.

They kissed, sweeping away the interrogations that were settling down all of a sudden.

...

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

The question caught up the attention of the whole table, putting an end to the conversations going on as silent gazes began to weigh on her. She swallowed hard and tried to ignore the burning sensation on her cheeks. Will squeezed her knee, which only worsened her discomfort and she bit the inside of her mouth to restrain a moan of distress.

"We don't know. We decided that it would be a surprise."

Her interlocutor _ a cousin from George's side _ seemed satisfied and nodded appreciatively.

"And why an adoption?"

She cast a glance at Will on her right but didn't let him enough time to reply. Even though revealing personal details in public and before strangers was a tough process, Karen wanted to be honest. She belonged to their family now, was tied to them and needed to be frank.

"I can't have children. I mean, it has never worked until now and since I am not twenty-five anymore we had to come up with a quick decision."

"It is so sudden. For years Will came over here alone or with his friend Grace but he never brought any girlfriend whatsoever. You have just married but when did you two meet exactly? I assume it has been quite a while if you want to have a child right now."

The question came from her left, an aunt if she remembered well. Something hurt in her heart at this exact moment and she felt a wave of panic spread over her whole body. Will sensed it or if he didn't, at least he decided to take control of the conversation.

"We met three years ago when Grace hired Karen as an assistant but we were friends until... A few months ago."

"And you are already married? After such a short time of dating?"

"It didn't take me long to realize that without Karen, my life made absolutely no sense."

"Now let's all move to the living-room for coffee."

Marilyn's intervention put a definitive end to the series of questions but as everyone stood up and moved around, Will's last words kept on resounding loud in Karen's head. He hadn't even left a second before replying as if there was no place for doubt of any sort; as if it was logical, and true.

It troubled her even more.

The timing couldn't have been worse. They had spent the night together and woke up against each other _ even kissed _ but then they had had to leave Manhattan in a rush to arrive on time in Connecticut. Even though it was a yet rather relieving excuse to avoid any confrontation, the situation weighed on their shoulders and it was hard to act around as if nothing unusual had happened. They had left it all behind in New York, embraced an artificial life when their original one couldn't have been more precarious.

She could read the confusion of his mind whenever she looked into his eyes, and she didn't like that.

"So Karen... Tell me, you know that every member of this family went to the best universities of the country. Is that also your case?"

Marilyn's brother passed a friendly arm around her shoulders, leading her to the living-room slowly. Her eyes caught up Will's gaze who looked uncertain for a few seconds, worried about such a question.

"I went to Sarah Laurence then Yale."

"Oh really? Now that is impressive. What have you majored in?"

An amused smile played on her lips as she observed Will's surprise. They had never talked about her past, even less the eventuality she might have gone to college, then university. What for, anyway? For most of the people she met, she was just some billionaire's doll you vaunted like a trophy.

And it wasn't false, on the contrary.

"I have majored in Political Science."

"Isn't it interesting?"

Invited to sit down on a sofa by Marilyn's brother, she nonetheless looked at Will as he took the armchair by her side. He was losing composure before her revelation, and seemed sad suddenly, ashamed as if he had missed out a large part of her actual personality.

_At least if I remain quiet about my past, people will stick to appearances and no matters they aren't always flattering, they still don't disappoint anyone but me. _

_I let them think what they want, it is easier this way around actually. Besides, you didn't like when I started talking about politics. You said that my comments were sharp, incisive, too tough. My professors used to say that I was just determined and extremely ambitious. But then I met you and you dragged me down as no one had ever done before. _

_What have you done to me, Stanley? What have you done?_

_I wish it were different, now. I wish I didn't keep on hurting people whenever they find out they have been wrong all along._


	16. The Days Go By

7. The days go by

"_The worst lies are the lies we tell ourselves. We live in denial of what we do, even what we think. We do this because we're afraid. We fear we will not find love, and when we find it, we fear we'll lose it. We fear that if we do not have love we will be unhappy."_

_Richard Bach._

The journey from Connecticut to Manhattan had been very quiet and tired to have tried to hold their roles for a whole day, they had let the music on the radio rock them in the background.

"Would you like some tea?"

Nodding, she abandoned her coat on the arm of the sofa and sat down on the opposite side of it. The silence floating above their heads was odd, oppressive. They had so many things to talk about that the strength it required seemed to get replaced by cowardice as none of them dared to make the first step.

The water began to boil, mugs clank against each other and very soon she found herself facing a tea kettle; the smell of vanilla escaping from it.

He poured some in a mug that she accepted in silent before bringing it to her lips to feel the heat of the drink brush her face warmly.

"Political Science?"

His question had sounded more like a fragile affirmation but she nonetheless nodded back at him, making an effort to look into his eyes properly.

"You couldn't guess."

"Indeed..."

This time he didn't seem convinced at all by his own words. It made her frown as her heart got wrapped by a bitter pain and she felt responsible for his quiet self-blaming. So without a word and against all expectations, she stood up then went to sit down on his lap, cuddling against him with the awkward sensation of the beginnings. She leaned her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes and smiled as his hands slid on her waist to hold her tight.

They spent the rest of the evening watching some old movies, laid in the dark on the small sofa of the television area but when the trailers disappeared and they faced a black screen, anxiety began to spread in her mind about the next move they would make.

They hadn't kissed since back to New York, hadn't mentioned anything about the previous night and even though he hadn't pushed her away when she had quietly asked for a hug, nothing let her imagine what he really expected from her.

Doubts never left her until she reached the first step of the stairs leading up to the first floor and she turned around to look at him; not that the next move would determine it all but at least it would have the credits to be symbolical.

They hesitated.

She finally tended her hand to him. He accepted it.

...

"Isn't it odd how a life can suddenly change?"

"Are you referring to Will and you? The baby..."

She cast a glance at him on the other end of the living-room before nodding at Grace and took another sip of her Champagne. If she had had to summarize all the events that had happened the week before, it would have been hard if not just impossible.

She had no idea of what was going on, why she had awoken in Will's arms for seven days in a row or how the slightest gaze he landed on her was enough to make her feel fine, peaceful.

They had gone to the museum, walked the city from North to South and West to East hand in hand; talked a lot as well. Within a week they had learned a lot from each other, and built a very strong complicity.

A secret one though. They hadn't mentioned anything in public.

"Yes... Among other things. So many aspects of our lives are changing that at times it makes me feel a bit dizzy if not lost. Not that I regret any of this but... I don't know... Since your marriage to Leo and the birth of Sophia, I feel like I am living in another world sometimes."

"Speaking of Sophia, I should go and check if she is sleeping. With the loud music and the conversations, she might have awoken."

"Don't move, Gracie. I will go immediately."

She abandoned her glass on a table, crossed the living-room and made it to the first floor where the brouhaha was stifled by a peaceful, serene silence. If she had had to be honest, Sophia was just another excuse to push the door and walk in the room; to look at the shelves, the rocking chair, the changing table, the little bed and a baby night light on a wooden table.

When Grace had confirmed her presence for New Year's Eve party, they had taken the decision to finish the nursery so that Sophia could sleep in it and what had looked like a junk room until then had suddenly turned into their favorite place.

For the first time Karen's fantasies seemed to brush with a delicate softness the shapes of reality.

_I have never thought so much about you than in those last few days. _

_I can't help comparing what I lived with you and what Will brings me. It hurts, a lot. Because at the end it only emphasizes the deep crash of our marriage and I hate this. I have been a failure for most of my life, pretending to be right and powerful enough to control a whole series of successes that were mere lies to myself. _

_Perhaps we are going too fast and we will end up hitting the wall violently just as I did with you; and with the previous ones._

_As much as your behavior could be harsh, I also know that you were very good at advice. I wish you could tell me now, Stan. I wish I could know what your thoughts about all this are. _

_I know that I am not the right person for Will, that this situation shouldn't even be. Then why it is happening?_


	17. Strawberry Cake

8. Strawberry Cake

"_There is only one happiness in this life, to love and to be loved."_

_George Sand._

She was playing with Sophia when the knock on the door they had all been waiting for finally resounded in the living-room. Within a second she took the toddler in her arms then rushed to open. Nearly a month had passed by since the last time she had seen Hope, the last time she had been in contact or so with her future child, and as soon as they had scheduled a new appointment, she had counted the hours down with a barely restrained impatience. There she was.

Her eyes immediately stared down at the young woman's stomach.

It had changed. The curves had turned more precised and visible, even under the large dress Hope was wearing. Pregnancy suited her very well. The truth was bitter for Karen _ and tough _ but she swallowed it back, tightening her hold on the toddler.

"Let me introduce you to Sophia, my niece. She has just turned five months."

Hope bent over to caress the baby's cheek who gave a responsive giggling then turned to hide against Karen's chest playfully.

Her relation to the toddler had evolved a lot through the past few weeks and the apprehension she had had at the beginning was now a bare, sort of blurry memory. Her gestures were full of self-confidence and if Will didn't happen to be around, she didn't panic at all; just played with the baby.

"How are you doing?"

After proper introductions to Grace and Jack, Hope sat down on the sofa and took a sip of her orange juice then smiled at the question.

"I am doing fine, perfectly fine. The baby moves quite a lot now so I guess it is a good sign. A bit tiring at times, though."

Still settled on Karen's lap, Sophia leaned forward to put her tiny hand on the prominent stomach, obviously troubled by its size. Karen laughed before the gesture, planted a kiss on the baby's head then murmured to her ear.

"There is a baby in there. Will and I's baby. You will play with her or him very soon, now."

"And you, how are you doing? You seem to be radiant, today."

Hope's comment made her blush but she didn't deny anything, no mattered they weren't alone and three other people she knew very well were observing the scene.

It was just like her interaction with the baby. Little by little she managed to let her guard fall down and accepted to show some side of her personality she would have never been able to even let others imagine before.

She cast a furtive glance at Will. She probably owed him everything.

"I am fine, and happy to see you here; today."

"I didn't want to miss your birthday!"

As saying so, Hope took a present out of her bag and tended it to Karen with a barely contained excitement.

"Oh you shouldn't have bought me anything..."

"Are you kidding me? You got me the last time on Christmas so now it is your turn. Open it!"

A bit taken aback, she nonetheless obeyed and with the help of Sophia got rid of the paper then smiled as she read the title on the book cover.

Hope let escape a nervous laugh then shrugged, touched by Karen's reaction.

"Back in December you told me that you hadn't even started thinking about a name so I assumed you might need a baby names book. I called Will who told me that it would be an excellent idea."

At the sound of his name, she couldn't help blushing and felt how her heart sped up its pace uncontrollably. She looked at him; he winced.

"It is, indeed. Thank you very much..."

An awkward silence suddenly began to float over the living-room, until Will cleared his voice and grabbed a plate then looked at Hope.

"Would you like some? It is a strawberry cake, Karen's favorite."

The rest of the day passed by smoothly and it is only when she found herself in bed with Will that Karen dared to open the book to have a proper look at it.

"You have been thinking about it since the minute she gave it to you, hmm?"

She smiled as his hand traveled on her lower stomach and he planted a kiss on her shoulder blade. As much as she preferred to remain quiet over their relation and so keep on pretending that nothing had changed, she missed his touch all day long; only thought about the moment when they would be alone and her skin would slide along his, her lips capturing his.

"Haven't you?"

His fingertips brushed her hip, passed underneath her negligee then caressed her inner thigh suggestively as his lips kissed her ear.

"Among other things..."

_Perhaps if I had known them since the very beginning, things would have been different between them and me. But they were already old, with conceptions of life that didn't include me. The first years turned out to be very tough, for me. I knew that you wanted me to make an effort and interact with them but I only had cold gazes in return. They hated me for having broken down your marriage with Cathy, for having broken down their family. Isn't it ironical? As soon as I got old enough to understand the dysfunctions of my own family I decided that I would do my best to never make anyone else live the same but this is what I did with Olivia and Mason. I ruined their childhood and stole their innocence. I shouldn't have done that. And even though after a while we began to interact, a gaze was enough to let me understand at times that they would never forgive me, Stan._

_And they were right._


	18. A Few Seconds in Life

9. A few seconds in life

"_I don't take things for granted, because everything feels more fragile. It's made me wonder about mortality and how long you've got somebody in the world. I'm more fearful than I used to be."_

_Robin Gibb._

A few seconds had been enough to draw a line under the smile she had been carrying on all week, the features of her face deepening before an obviousness that hadn't crossed her mind until then.

Only a couple of steps and she had understood with bitterness that it would never be the same. The difference would be there, constantly, tiny but latent; invisible for some but too bright for herself. The truth was being projected all around, like a thousand mirrors sending back to her the harsh realization she still needed to work on if she wanted to live and enjoy every single second of the upcoming adoption.

Maternity; whenever she turned on her heels, her eyes irremediably landed on large stomachs and instinctive hands caressing them lovingly.

As much as she would build a real complicity with her child, she would never know, would never experience the mysterious interaction a mother developed during her pregnancy with the baby and something would be missing. It had nothing to do with feelings but a natural connection that only nine months of a shared life could settle in.

It hadn't hit her until she had passed the doors of the store on this afternoon of February, only two months before welcoming the baby. She had spent most of her time in the expectation of an event she had thought once unreachable and blinded by the perspective of it finally turning into reality, she had missed out some details; no mattered their importance.

"May I help you?"

The question putting an abrupt end to her wonders, Karen jumped _ vaguely surprised _ before smiling at a woman in her forties.

"Actually you may, indeed. I would like to buy some kimono tops as well as a few pajamas for a baby who will be born in April."

"Excellent. Are we looking for a birth gift?"

"No, it is for my child. April, 6th is the date..."

The salesperson frowned then looked down at Karen's stomach with obvious incomprehension.

"It is an adoption. I... I am adopting a child."

"Oh, wonderful!"

The woman's warm smile passed completely unnoticed to Karen as her own words kept on resounding loud in her head. For the first time she had talked about the adoption to a stranger, without being afraid of whatever comments it might eventually set off. Everything had come along naturally and suddenly she felt like she did assume her decisions and acts completely.

…

Her smile grew wider as she opened the door of their apartment and saw Will in the kitchen, brewing some tea. Since the episode of the store a few hours earlier, a weight seemed to have suddenly vanished from her chest and she had never felt so light, so fine.

"What have you bought?"

Two mugs of tea in hand, Will came to sit down on the sofa and stared at the different bags on the table with curiosity.

She cupped his face in her hand, planted a kiss on his lips then took out the different clothes she had found at the maternity store. They might still have a couple of months left for the last purchases but since time had flown by until then, it sounded more and more urgent to get the first elements they would need as parents.

"Following your request, I have discarded anything blue or pink and decided to stick to red, white, green..."

The shaking tone of her voice only matched the exhilaration lighting up the flame in her hazel eyes as little by little she showed Will every single top and pajama she had invested in.

The atmosphere of the apartment had rarely been so joyful than this evening. It seemed that Karen's joy was so strong that it managed to contaminate the slightest inch of the place then got absorbed by Will and all of a sudden they started joking around with a warm, sincere complicity.

They were in the middle of the study of two different types of cotton when the phone rang. Will picked it up.

It is the transience of his words that caught up her attention first; then the way his features seemed to deepen as the slightest ounce of happiness went away from his face within a second. Her heart tightened; she swallowed hard.

When the phone call came to an end, she waited for him to say something but he remained quiet, his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him.

"Who was it?"

Against her best intentions, his silence got on her nerves and she lost control of her latent panic.

"Will, dammit! Who was it?"

Unsteadily she looked at him as he stood up and passed a hand through his hair before shaking his head.

"Hope's mother... Hope... She had an accident."

"Is she alright? Is the baby alright?"

Her voice had sounded too blank to own the mere ounce of courage and it is only when she looked down at her lap that she realized she had twisted her hands with strength; the lack of blood whitening her fingertips.

"I don't know... She just told me to come over, and quickly."

_It took us forty-five seconds to reach the sidewalk, only ten more to find a cab but we got lost in traffic and we made it to the hospital twenty minutes later. It sounded like an eternity. _

_Count two minutes more to find the right ward, five to meet with Hope's parents who had been waiting for us in the corridor for half an hour, the time elapsed between the moment Will had taken the call and our arrival to the ER. _

_My father died of a cancer. It took him three years._

_You had a heart attack. You passed away after an hour and a half._

_It took Hope three steps to get hit by a car, one second per step._

_What are three seconds in a life? Absolutely nothing most of people would say, an infinite detail passing unnoticed. _

_It resulted enough though to take away Hope and the baby. _

_At this exact moment, I just stopped counting. Then time got suspended._


	19. A Glimmering Star

Part four: moving on

1. A Glimmering Star

"_The whole conviction of my life now rests upon the belief that loneliness, far from being a rare and curious phenomenon, peculiar to myself and a few other solitary men, is the central and inevitable fact of human existence."_

_Tom Wolfe_

For long seconds her eyes remained focused on the wall in front of her. There was nothing to observe, nothing to judge but she nonetheless refused to move around as if a change might occur during her absence and it would make it all fall down.

The other side of the bed was empty; not that she could witness it since she had her back turned at it but she could feel the coldness of the sheet against her own body, a place deprived of human souls.

He had probably awoken in the first hours of the morning, left the room in a perfect silence then made all the necessary arrangements; called everyone.

She envied his capacity to stick to reality even when life tipped over and you felt like staying still in the hope that the wind would take you away and sweep it all on your path so your worries would vanish in the whirl of past.

His strength went beyond her brightest skills if she ever owned any.

She finally rolled on her back then cuddled against his pillow. His scent was still there, subtle enough. She had fallen asleep in his arms the night before, rocked by her incessant sobs and the caress his hand had kept on tracing on her back. Her dreams hadn't taken her that far and all along she had kept in mind the fact Hope had died, as well as her child.

The heat of the water didn't take off the weight that had been pressing on her chest but she remained under the shower, her eyes closed as the drops were sliding along her face; coming to die in the depths of her curves.

She made her choice over a knee-length black skirt, a dark red cashmere top and a matching lipstick; then tied her hair back. A glance in the mirror surprised her a lot. She didn't look tired or devastated. Her face was just the same she woke up with every morning, graceful features on a pale skin.

Stilettos on and resounding loud on the hardwood floor, she crossed her room then took the stairs down only to stop by the sofa where she found him sitting down. A stack of paper had meticulously been settled on a side of the table, a pencil on top of it.

"Good morning."

As his eyes landed on her, she knew that she wouldn't be able to handle it for the rest of the day. The lack of air became oppressive over the apartment. She swallowed hard, gave an attempt to a smile. He grabbed her hand.

"Are you alright?"

"I need to go out for a little while. I should be back in a few hours."

"Would you like me to come?"

"No."

She would have slapped him that it wouldn't have been harsher. Apologies immediately brushed her lips but as she saw him plunge his face in his hands and start crying, she remained disarmed; desperately quiet.

She grabbed her coat and her bag then left.

…

She wished she hadn't lived with him and so she wouldn't have had to come back there. Three hours had passed by now and she was sure that Grace and Jack would be in the living-room, landing their apologetic eyes on her as soon as she would open the door and step in.

She hated that. From the day her father had died to Stanley's funeral, all the sympathy people showed towards the ones in grief disgusted her more than anything.

She didn't want anyone's pity, anyone's so-called sadness when most of them had never lost any relative yet.

Arrived on the ninth floor, she took a deep breath then opened the door biting the inside of her mouth to restrain a sigh of exasperation as Will, Grace and Jack stopped their conversation to turn around and stare at her.

She knew that he had told them everything; from Hope not seeing the car on her right to the sequels of the shock on the baby, how it had led to a detached placenta and the heart rate had slowed down way too fast, Hope dying at the same time as their child.

It was a boy.

Offering a forceful smile, she sat up on the edge of the sofa in a position she wanted to sound relaxed.

"How are you doing, Karen?"

"I have slept for ten hours so I am doing perfectly fine."

The light tone of her voice took everyone aback and before the heavy silence her reply had stirred up, she shrugged then rolled her eyes.

"Oh come on! How could have I grown attached to someone I hadn't even met in real life?"

_Do you think that I deserve what is happening? Do you think that it is a sign and maybe I should stick to it instead of being so stubborn and keep on trying to get something I am obviously denied?_

_I have a ton of questions that remain unanswered, Stan. Nobody seems to be able to give me the right reply. I don't feel hurt or empty but lonely. Though it shouldn't be so surprising since this is a sentiment that never grew apart from me. _

_I remember the day you introduced me to Mason. Your eyes were shining of a pride I didn't really understand. Now I got it but it is already too late. _

_Am I allowed to say as well that I had a son, once? _

_And that he made me proud. Ridiculously enough since he never got to know this world alive. _


	20. Breach of Contract

2. Breach of contract

"_And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation."_

_Kahlil Gibran._

She went back to work with the sound of the ground hitting Hope's coffin in head. It was abrupt in all its transience, a sort of shock that haunted you as soon as the place you were in turned silent. Then you knew that you had no choice but accepting to succumb to its harshness.

Life went on, as it always did. A couple of times in the past when she had had to face difficult moments, she had wondered if the world would ever stop one day because of all this pain spreading over its soil. She wished it had so that people realized that at this exact second, some were extremely sad.

Her relation to Will had seriously been altered by the downfall of their plans, the death of their child and a thousand fantasies suddenly vanishing under the fragility of life. She didn't like coming back home in the evening. As soon as she stepped into the lobby of the building, a weight began to oppress her chest and she felt like crying.

They talked, watched movies together then fell asleep in each other's arms but it all sounded fake. Perhaps it was only a matter of time and one day they would find back what had been left behind.

Though deep inside herself, she was convinced that it had to come to an end.

…

Her eyes refusing to remain concentrated on the text, she closed the novel she was reading, abandoned it on the bedside table, laid down and stared at the ceiling. It had been a cold day, a chilling wind that caressed your nape before sliding along your spine and embracing your whole body; making you shiver even once inside.

She needed heat, warmth. Human contact.

"Touch me."

Her request surprised him. Since the day they had rushed to the hospital only to learn that there wouldn't be tomorrow with their child, Karen had adopted the habit to simply cuddle in his arms then fall asleep.

They hadn't kissed, hadn't shared anything but these successive embraces at the end of the day almost in the dark, always in silence as if the slightest idea of sweetness between both would make them feel guilty.

"What?"

Still focusing on the ceiling, she swallowed hard then took a deep breath.

"I want you to touch me. I want you to kiss me. I want to feel your hands on me. I want you to make love to me."

"But..."

As her eyes locked with his, his words got suspended in the air until they got taken away while he closed his book and approached her.

A gasp came to die on her lips as she looked down at his fingertips brushing her lower stomach slowly; felt the touch. She let him do as he passed his hand underneath her satin top to finally make a skin-to-skin contact between them both. His fingers went up her chest then stopped at the base of her breasts.

They kissed with a desperate sweetness, clutched to each other as if very soon one of them would vanish in the air like in some dream that only brought a tough bitterness when you opened your eyes and realized it had been breeze.

A sudden urge to fully feel him against her own body pushed her to get rid of his shirt, his boxers as her legs invited him to settle between them.

She squeezed his waist and passed a hand through his hair to make him get closer as his lips began to wander down her shoulder blades.

A tear rolled down her cheek.

…

She had thought about his caresses all day long, how his lips had traced a thousand paths on her skin in the pale light of the evening.

She had remembered the heat of his body and his heart pounding loud in his chest when he had lacked breath.

She hadn't forgotten any of this.

But still...

"What is it?"

She looked how he put down the mug of tea he had been holding to grab the papers she had made slide on the table a few seconds earlier instead.

On her way back home she had thought about all the possible scenarios that she could use to settle down what looked like an inevitable talk but for not coming to any satisfying conclusion, she had simply gone straight at it.

"Since our plans to have a child together have failed, I have no reason to hold you any longer in this marriage. These are the divorce papers. I have already filled them so I only need your signature at the bottom of every page."

"But I don't want..."

He looked completely taken aback. She took advantage of it to put an end to her difficult task a bit more easily, cowardly.

"I will get a kitchen back, up on the first floor, so my presence will pass as unnoticed as possible here and you will be able to have your whole freedom back. Thank you very much for everything though, I really appreciate it."

His eyes remained locked with her for a few seconds during which hesitation turned into doubts before finally adopting the shapes of resignation.

"Fine, I will sign the papers and bring them tomorrow at the office. But please don't get a kitchen of your own. I... I like having you around here. We can be roommates."

"I am not your Grace."

"No, indeed. You mean a lot more to me."

_I have never liked the way you constantly told me that you loved me, that I was everything for you and that you couldn't live without me. These are words that should remain as rare as the pearls the most fortunate ones find while opening oysters. Did you know that they died once you took the pearl away from them? This is what happened between you and I. _

_You abused of these words, Stanley, and thus damaged the strength of their charms. You made them sound bare, easy to say and pointless. _

_You should have remained quiet instead of lying over the preciosity of eternal feelings. You shouldn't have told these to me. _


	21. On the Ferry

3. On the Ferry

"_What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from."_

_T.S. Eliot _

A ridiculous but yet symbolical handshake drew a line under their marriage as Will came back home the very next day and told her that the papers had been been approved by the courthouse. She welcomed the news with relief, as if the situation between the two of them was finally fair; logical. They wouldn't forget but it was still time to move on and accept a couple of facts.

Their life was singular but terribly addicting. Whenever they got lost in some endless conversation at the end of the day, she felt like his presence took her away to an unknown place where they would be alone; honest to each other. The world looked safe from there, so warm.

Then reality hit her back as soon as she found herself alone in bed by night.

The snow ended up melting, pushing away the gray clouds until the sunny sky of spring made it back over the city with its typical warmth, the one that caressed your cheek in the morning to wake you up softly enough.

She opened her eyes only to notice the presence of a breakfast tray on a coffee table at the bottom of her bed. Orange juice, tea kettle, French toasts, jam... And a white paper folded in two. A bit half-asleep, she sat up and leaned over to grab what looked like a letter then opened it. The words were fuzzy.

She restrained a moan of exasperation, put her glasses on meticulously and finally concentrated back on the message.

_Buon giorno, principessa!_

_Enjoy your breakfast _

_I will wait for you downstairs _

_In twenty minutes_

Her eyes remained fixed on the first line, those three Italian words she hadn't heard from him in a very long while. They made her smile and so she decided to play along his mysterious deal.

…

They didn't hail a cab and headed to a subway station instead. As much as she had tried to get information from him, Will had remained perfectly quiet over his plan. But his eyes were glimmering, a bright smile on his lips.

It is only when he grabbed her hand then stepped out of the train that she understood where they were going to. A warm sun caressed their faces as they hit back the streets _ leaving the subterranean world under their feet _ and hand in hand, they silently walked to the pier where a ferry was waiting.

This time she turned out to be the one going straight to the upper deck, to the very far end of the seat rows to admire Manhattan skyline vanishing little by little. But as soon as they put a step on Staten Island, she let him guide her through the streets in the hope to succumb again to the charms of the place; and leave all the rest behind.

It worked and very soon she abandoned herself to the sweetness of the quiet streets; the benches by the ocean. The day flew away and as they made their way back to the ferry, she felt her throat tightening, melancholy invading her whole body.

She loved Manhattan but Staten Island had the credits to not remind her of any tough moment she might have lived.

Sitting down in silence on a plastic chair of the upper deck, she stared at the pier and the little houses a few feet below. It all looked so small, so fragile.

"I should have hugged you tight, comforted you the day you broke down into tears in the living-room. But the truth is that you took me aback and I didn't dare the slightest move towards you. So I left... I am sorry, though."

A sudden breeze made a strand of hair fly over her face. Still focused on the harbor, she put it behind her ear and frowned. She had wanted to apologize a thousand times but had never found the courage to do so. Perhaps it wasn't the right place and even less the right time but the words had come out alone, by themselves, and she had no hold over that.

"Why don't you cry? You fell asleep against me sobbing that night. Then from then on... You stopped."

"Just because I am smiling doesn't necessarily mean that I am happy..."

Her remark floated above their heads as the ferry left Staten Island and they remained quiet, awkward and hurt; in need of words.

"I know that it is early, probably too much but still, it isn't over until we say it, Kare. We still can have a child, together. There are plenty of ways to make it come true."

"Oh no, there are not unfortunately. I have gone through every single medical exam possible and I am not sterile. They said it had probably something to do with my mind, some sort of tricky subconscious perhaps. But it never worked out. Barely a scare, once..."

"There is international adoption. The children might not be new-born but who cares?"

"I can't. My profile won't be accepted. I... I made some mistakes in the past and they prevent me from applying for this kind of things now."

"What do you mean?"

If she had kept on staring straight in front of her, his question changed all the perspectives and she turned her head around to look at him properly.

"I was sentenced to jail when I was seventeen, for prostitution. I had left home the year before without any money and when I arrived here, I obviously didn't meet the right people... I worked for a club, high standards; only wealthy, old business men who stayed in New York for a couple of days and were looking for entertainment or so. But one day the cops arrived, realized that I wasn't eighteen yet. The club got shut down, I got put to jail. My attorney became my first husband. He got me out of it, paid for my studies but died a bit quickly... Long story short I didn't touch his fortune for three years which sent me back to a state of no-money when there were millions waiting for me at the bank. I shot a movie by then, an adult one. And for the very first time I felt like I had completely failed no matters I had actually been given the right cards. So I dropped out Yale, got a job as a waitress, finally touched the heritage and got married again. Not so bright, hmm?"

She waited for a cold answer, an awkward moment in the best of the cases; not that he would throw a fit at her but still, her glorious days were definitely just a wall of appearances.

She just hadn't imagined that he would caress her cheek _ a latent pain in the eyes _ before making it all tip over, one more time.

"I love you, Kare. I love you more than anything."

_I already had a name and a fortune when you met me. But still, I know that my past wasn't a complete mystery to you. The world of socialite people is a very small one and it is impossible to keep a secret safe among those circles of so-called friends. _

_I just don't understand why you never asked for an explanation, why you did not want to hear about my words, the way I saw things. _

_You probably didn't mind that much, Stanley; didn't mind that much about the reason why I could be so sad at times._


	22. A Couple of Things about Signs

4. A couple of things about signs

"_We know that birth takes a woman from one place to another. The birth of a child certainly does change her viewpoint of herself and I believe her viewpoint of the world."_

_Sameerah Shareef_

The steps were unsteady _ the arms wide open _ but still, Sophia was walking by herself towards Will in the backyard of his parents.

"I can't believe that we are celebrating her first birthday..."

Sat on a chair in the shadows of a tree, Karen took a sip of her iced tea then bit her lower lip as the irremediable passing of time made it to her head and she began to think about the past year they had lived.

Grace giggled, touched by her friend's words and their veracity. Her daughter had changed a lot within the past few months, followed a logical evolution but that nonetheless left them all a bit taken aback, and disarmed as well.

"One day we will wake up only to realize that it is time for us to attend her high school graduation."

Karen replied by a quiet, serene smile and looked how Jack lifted Sophia up in the air to make her burst out laughing. If she had had the possibility then she would have suspended this moment for a very long while, fed herself of all the smiles, and laughter. Exhilarated she would have slowly let it go then, certain that it would warm up her heart for the next few years or so.

She needed it a bit more than the usual.

"It is nice from Marilyn to have offered the house to celebrate the birthday. At least here, Sophia has a backyard to play in not like in New York where you only can go to Park Slope."

"What can I say? Marilyn can't resist her ex-daughter-in-law's requests."

Karen winced at Grace and caressed the ring she had never taken off in spite of the circumstances and her decision to get a divorce. It carried along a quiet symbol, a secret one that nobody knew about.

Five months had passed by since the conversation she had shared with Will on the ferry. They went back to Staten Island every month now for a weekend far from the boiling Manhattan life. Besides out there, they could hold hands and kiss without being afraid of the consequences.

She hadn't pushed him away that day on the boat and let him take her in his arms, then plant a kiss on her lips. It hadn't sounded like a new beginning to her or some sort of second chance but the continuity of what they had begun to build, in all its imperfection that made it true, sweet and sincere.

"I am glad you get along with her... She is a nice person."

Actually and against everyone's expectations she had grown closer to George. His quietness reminded her of her own father, some blurry memories she had kept in mind through the years and whenever they were invited to the house in Connecticut, she impatiently waited for the moment she would see him. They didn't talk that much but exchanged gazes that meant a lot more than all the words they could have used.

"Principessa!"

The nickname made her jump and as she looked up at Will, she couldn't help blushing. He never called her like that in public, only saved it for some more private moments like when she woke up in his arms in the morning or when they shared a relaxing bath at the end of the day in the quietness of the flat.

"Who the hell is he calling?"

"Me..."

Grace stared at her with perplexity, confused by the improbable situation. If their relation had completely changed the past few months, they had actually kept alive their teasing games and barely showed any gesture of sweetness when with their friends.

It was a given fact that they were getting along very well, but a lot quieter one that they might have been living something more.

"It is a long story... Over an Italian movie."

Her explanation seemed to satisfy Grace whose attention got caught up by a muffin on the table by her side. She grabbed it, bit into it.

"Leo would like us to have another child. I am not sure about it yet. It might be too early though when I look at Sophia, it seems obvious she would love having someone to play with. What do you think?"

"I think that... That if everything goes fine, she will at least have a cousin to share her games with next year this time around."

The words had slid on her lips with an odd softness. Looking at Grace, she replied to the quiet question by a nod and let a small laugh escape.

"You..."

"I am pregnant."

"It is Will's child, isn't it?"

Her heart began to pound faster against her chest and she looked down at her lap with discomfort.

"I got the results yesterday. He doesn't know about it yet."

_I don't understand but maybe there is nothing to actually understand. I don't believe in miracles, you know that I am way too Cartesian for these. But then, what is it? A natural logic, the sign that we were mean to be?_

_One day I thought that I was expecting your child, Stanley. I rushed into things and prepare a nursery. But it was a false alert and whenever I passed by the door of this room, my heart got broken a little more. _

_The story got repeated when Hope died along with the baby. I hate this room at the end of the corridor on the first floor, the one I pass by every day. It is a real torture. _

_What if something goes wrong for the next few months? What if I don't make it through the pregnancy? I can't afford to go through all of this again. _

_People would say that I should happy if not thankful but I can't. I am way too scared._


	23. Forty One Weeks and Three Days

5. Forty-one weeks and three days

"_There's place and means for every man alive."_

_William Shakespeare._

March. If the temperatures were still rather low, the sun nonetheless woke her up in a sweet and warm caress every morning as it passed through the windows. If Will wasn't around _ had already left for work _ she turned on her side to fix the blue of the sky intently, for long seconds, long minutes sometimes. There was no music playing in the background, no specific sound in the apartment and she succumbed to the silence with a deep serenity.

One day she had seen a couple of seagulls flying between the buildings before disappearing behind a wall of bricks on her left. She had wondered about the lightness of their movements, the air embracing their frames; what they could think about the landscape that spread below their claws. The differences that another kind of perspective could bring had been the only conclusion really setting in her mind.

Baths were another moment of quiet pleasure for her. As soon as she settled in the tub and closed her eyes _ her head leaned backwards _ everything was easier in the water. She felt like she was floating, rocked by the bubbles that kept on sliding along the curves of her body. She liked the peculiarity of the sensation, its uniqueness.

But if she had had to choose among all these moments that her life had made of a new routine she would have alluded to their Sunday mornings when time had no importance anymore and they stayed there in bed against each other.

At some point in her life _ way before she met him and took radical decisions over a few things _ she had found it all extremely ridiculous and shallow; a bit of a waste of time that could be filled with something less abstract than what human contact was supposed to mean.

Now she would have given anything to never be away from him.

His fingertips traced a path up her stomach then stopped on top of it where he pressed the palm of his hand and while locking his eyes with hers, his lips planted a kiss a few inches away from his fingers.

She smiled at him, shyness in her gaze as if even after all this time she still wasn't accustomed to the intimate gesture, to the whole situation.

Though there was nothing unbelievable anymore about it. It was there _ the kicks, the ultra-sound pictures _ clearly not a mere fantasy.

"There is something we need to talk about, Will."

A bit curious, he leaned up on his elbows and frowned.

"What is it?"

"The name, the family name; we haven't decided if it would be yours or mine. Since we are divorced, things aren't as...""

"Actually we are not."

"Excuse me?"

She looked at him with perplexity as he sat up by her side, laughed nervously before his own confession.

"I have never signed the divorce papers. We are still married, legally married may I add."

"Don't tell me you did that for tax advantages."

"Of course not!"

"Then what is it? You lied to me, to everyone even to your family."

"Actually I never told them about any divorce at all and since it was supposed to be a fake marriage, they didn't insist on it whenever they saw us."

"Why did you do that?"

She wasn't angry, just confused about something that looked so big but the truth was that since he was her attorney, she hadn't checked her tax return and had trusted him instead, rather logically.

"Because it wasn't over for me and I didn't want to let you go..."

"But what if I had met someone else or you had?"

"Then I would have signed the papers and got them approved."

His reply let her speechless, disarmed. If she ever forgot that he was a lawyer at times, it all came back suddenly with comments like this one.

"Though I knew that it would always be you."

The easiness he used to allude to his feelings towards her only stirred up this well-known jealousy she had experienced a lot through the years for being unable to express her sentiments in front of anyone, even in private terms.

And if she dared to say "I love you", it only came through an inaudible whisper.

"Do you have anything else to confess? It might be the right time to do so."

His lips captured hers in a soft kiss and as he cupped her face with his hand, he stared into her eyes then smiled brightly.

"Thank you for everything."

_Forty-one weeks and three days, nine months approximately. This is the time a baby requires to come to life. I found out that I was pregnant on September, told Will about it and from then on, we just waited. _

_We shared everything, from the inevitable hope over it to the fear it might come to an end a bit too quickly. Each day was a step, some tougher than others but in spite of all, we were alright for being together. _

_Lily was born on a Sunday morning of March._

_I won't come back here anymore, Stan, or put down a rose for you on this stone. And if I stop talking to you like that, you need to keep in mind that you will always be in my heart. _

_We got it wrong at times, you and I, but you are still the one who pushed me to leave the penthouse and look for a job; the one who pushed me to apply to Grace's ad. Without you I wouldn't have met Will and I wouldn't be a mother right now._

_I owe you my life, the reason why I am alive. _

Karen knelt down, put a red rose on the ground and turned around; leaving Central Park with a bright smile on, a baby in her arms.


End file.
